I Want To Tell You
by MasterWere
Summary: 19 year old Abby Green has shared a past with the Beatles in their younger years, but her job and their fame has come between them. One day she finds herself with a ticket to one of their concerts, and seeing Paul again awakens old feelings...
1. It Won't Be Long

**Were: Hello all! So, wow, our first story. I don't have much to say except... Hope you like it!**  
><strong>Murph: I'm so excited about this! :D Please send feedback, it's our hungry writer's food supply :) Enjoy!<strong>

**Chapter One: It Won't Be Long**

"_...I'm so lonesome everyday."_ The song ended with a crackle of interference on my little radio set. I listened closely to who it was by so I would know what to look for the next time I went to a record store.

"That was the song _Walk Right Back_ by the Everly Brothers, number 31 on the What's Hot list," one of the announcers explained with a heavy Liverpudlian accent.

"Thank you Ted," the other announcer cut in with not as heavy of an accent. "And now I think we have some concert tickets that we'd like to give away."

I looked up from the book I was reading - Great Expectations, which I was enjoying despite never classing myself as a Charles Dickens type of girl - and cranked the volume wheel on the radio round a few turns. _Maybe it's a concert worth going to, _I thought to myself as I turned a page lazily.

"Indeed we do, Dave. This ticket is for the upcoming Beatles performance at the Cavern Club on August 3rd. I hear it will be one of the fastest-selling concert they've yet to perform. The first caller with the correct answer to this next question is the lucky person who gets to attend - and not only that, but they will get one of the closest seats in the house. Wot do you think of that, Dave?"

"I think lots of people - girls, mind you - would die to get one of these baby's."

"Right you are."

That brought back a flood of memories into my mind, all hitting home at once, making me breath catch in my throat. It had all started when I had been introduced by Layla - my best friend, back then Paul's girlfriend - to them at one of their earlier gigs. It was way before they were a well-known band - heck, before they were a band...

I forced myself from my thoughts in order not to miss the competition details, sitting up and closing my book. My eyes scanned the room and rested on the phone next to my bed. I tossed over my book, pages fluttering as it flipped over a few times, hopped off my bed, into my fuzzy slippers, and snatched up the device, fingers poised to dial.

"Anyroad, here's the question," I heard one of the radio announcers say. Too late I wondered if having access to a magazine might have been helpful; if I didn't know the answer within moments, I was going to be beaten by some fan with a stack of material ready to go.

"Which member of the Beatles is the only one who is left handed?"

I grinned in triumph, my whole body relaxing. That was too easy. I dialed the number that the announcers had given, and waited as it rang. _Come on, _I thought impatiently, _pick up, pick UP! _I anxiously waited a few more rings until I heard a click on the other end.

"Hullo. This is Ted from your local pop station. Do you have the answer to our Beatles question?"

"Yeah, I do. The answer is Paul, Paul McCartney." I tugged at a strand of my fast growing hair and wriggled my toes, the most common signs that I was nervous.

"Oi Dave!" Ted shouted into my ear, causing me to jerk it away from my ear.

"Wot?" I heard a something clatter and then some muffled curses in the background.

"Is the answer Paul McCartney?" I heard Ted ask.

"Uhm... Paul McCartney... Yes!" I heard Dave shout back in the background.

"An' we have our winner!" Ted announced, back on the air. "Wot's your name, miss?"

"My name's Abby. Abby Green, " I answered, unable to keep a grin from spreading over my face. With my luck, it was a triumph winning any kind of competition, let alone one that had a prize I was desperate for. A slight thrill ran through me at hearing my voice on the radio, and I wondered briefly if anyone I knew might be listening.

"Alright Abby, you can come and pick your ticket up right now." He quickly gave me directions on how to get there.  
>"Thank you!" I beamed into the phone, my voice replicating my expression, and hung up. Quickly tossing my slippers to my bed, pulling on my shoes and throwing on my coat, I picked up my keys and shot out the door.<p>

Once I found the right building, I parked my beautiful cherry-red Chevrolet (my pride and joy - I'd only recently gotten it for my 19th birthday from my parents. I savored a quick look over it's shining coat and polished mirrors before turning away) with a crunch of gravel and got out. I looked up at the building and took in a breath. It was a huge looming place, giving off an almost intimidating feeling, a complete clash to the cheerful feel of the radio station when I'd listened in to it. I pushed through the swinging doors and found myself in a long hallway with statues propped up against the walls all the way up and oil paintings hanging in neat lines. Feeling a little lost, I peered at the doors, wondering where to go next, when suddenly one was pushed open and a scruffy looking man with a mess of brown hair and big cheeky eyes, presumably Ted, appeared. As soon as he saw me his mouth broke into a grin and he headed over to me, waving. "Hullo. Are you Abby Green?"

I nodded, brightening at a more friendly sight and walked over to him."Yes, I am."

"Here's your ticket ma'am, and congratulations on winning it."

"Thanks again," I said, returning his smile. I looked down at what he'd given me, treasuring the feel of the fresh, uncreased ticket in my palm as he pressed it into my hand.

As I turned and walked back toward the doors, I imagined what it would be like to see the Beatles perform in person for the first time in two years, and my heart jumped with joy.


	2. Get Back

**Were: I'm so happy about all the reviews and encouraging comments we got! You guys rock! I hope this second chapter satisfies your need for more but leaves you waiting for more. 83 BTW - we kind of bent the Love Me Do releasing to our will, but otherwise it sticks to history. ;)**  
><strong>Murph: Thanks for all the feedback, we're really enjoying writing this! :D <strong>

**Chapter Two: Get Back **

Wow. So I was truly set to see the Beatles tonight.

The thought set a smile on my face when I woke up on the morning of August 3rd, thankfully a Sunday. I flopped over in bed to sit upright and peered at my clock. 8:15am. Blinking blearily until the sleep slowly left my eyes, I looked around my room. My flat wasn't much, a modest little place with comfy furniture and posters dominating the walls. In my room there was little space, just enough room for a squashy double bed and a wardrobe crushed into the corner, shoes and clothes practically spilling out the doors which were currently jammed shut with a stack of books. Most of the other rooms were tidy to a certain extent, if you skipped over the desk covered in paper and pen lids, and the coffee table that seemed to always have at least one apple core or pile of rubbish every time I passed it.

Still feeling drowsy, I fumbled out of my room, grabbing clothes at random on my way, and made a beeline for the shower. Even although I was only there to watch them perform, I felt a bit pressured to look my best for the lads gig.

As I let the warm water trickle over me, shampooing my hair in clumps and swirls, I thought over my memories of the four of them.

John had no doubt always been the wolf pack leader. He was unquestionably flirty, rude, cheeky, obnoxious, and sometimes just plain mean. Yet I had always thought, in the time I'd known him, there was a gentler John beneath his harsh, over-confident exterior. He rarely showed him, but yet I knew he was there. I sometimes had to wonder at how much music had saved him. It had transformed a boy with little or no ambition to an incredibly talented musician.

George was definitely the quieter one that always seemed a bit of a mystery to me. He had always seemed so gentle and polite compared to the others, with a sweet word ready on his tongue. While John and Paul played up to any crowds they could get, Georgie always seemed absorbed in his guitar, as if still in a little back room practicing rather than in front of mountains of people.

Ringo, on the other hand, I had grown to know much better. He was an idiot at times - they all were - but like George, he meant well and was a loyal friend. There was no doubt he loved to play; out of the four, he was always the one with the biggest grin onstage as he slammed the beaters across the drum set. He'd always teased me when I hung out with them, since I could play no instrument and was so out of my depth in any conversation regarding music. I could see his point, I guess.

Paul... was the one who perhaps I had known best of all. He was an ever lingering thought at the back of my mind, the little memories I had of him forever twitching back and forth, replaying in my head. We'd always got along well - same sense of humour or just good friends who clicked, I wasn't really sure. He was a sweetie, with all his charms and adorable big eyes, although a complete flirt of course. I could remember gritting my teeth when girl after girl came onto him, but never really voicing my annoyance. Did I regret that? I wasn't sure. Perhaps seeing them at the performance tonight would answer that. Or at least, my own reactions would.

Rubbing myself dry with a towel, I pulled on the lazily chosen clothes I'd dropped on the floor, and peered in the mirror, hair dripping trails of water down the back of my neck. I was a fairly slender girl (or so I'd been told), with a semi-tall, sporty build from plenty of swimming and running. My nose was sharply bridged, my skin infuriatingly pale even in the heat of summer, and a dusting of freckles flecked across my cheeks. People tended to comment on my eyes, which were a deep green with long lashes. They were slightly obscured by my hair, which was determined to spring all over my face whenever not restrained by a thorough brush. It was a mousy brown with strands of bright gold blonde and darker brunette beneath. Naturally it was wavy, though when I attacked it during a heated session with my hairdryer, it generally lay pretty much straight.

Stumbling out into the main room again, I chucked the towel in the washing basket and peered at the clock. Still a few hours to go. I looked restlessly round the room, knowing I wasn't going to be spending that amount of time on makeup or hair. In the armchair was a huge furry mound of long speckled brown hair. Proceeding cautiously, I knelt down and waved my fingers a safe distance from my cat's paws. "Poppyyy," I cooed, watching as her eyes opened and narrowed at me. She had a truly evil glare when I woke her up, not helped by the fact her fur was splayed out in all directions, giving her a lion-like look. Her tail was a small furry stump where she'd been operated on at the vets after being hit by a car, and there were patches in her coat where her fur had been cut off at the roots when I forgot to brush it through properly and it had gotten clumped together at the ends. People tended to remark she looked like I'd just scooped her off the streets and dumped her in an armchair.

Suddenly I felt a wet nose nudge my hand.

I turned to see Ginger, my small Terrier pup, bobbing up and down, trying to get my attention. Once he held my full attention, he raced to the door in a streak of light brown fur, and started to whine. It was clear what he wanted. I quickly finished pulling the brush through my hair, then followed him to the door.

Once I latched the leash onto my hyper dog, we made our way outside to be greeted by the summer sun and clear blue sky. It was such a beautiful day - perfect for the concert. I began to get lost in my thoughts as I walked down the side walk with Ginger pulling me along, I was barely concentrating on what I was doing.

I hadn't really thought much of my high school years since I had gotten out of high school and started my job editing the paper, but ever since the week before when I had won the ticket did I start to have small flashbacks of my earlier life.

Layla had been a friend of mine almost right after I moved to Liverpool from the US. (My pop had found work here, so we packed up when I was beginning high school in 1957.) We had started high school together, and soon after she got her first boyfriend - Paul McCartney. I'd seen him around a few times, never really talked to him. That was about when she invited me along to a gig of the band he was in, the Quarrymen. That night changed my life. They were just a skiffle group, but they surprised me - they were _really_ good.

There was the leader of the group, John Lennon, then Paul, George Harrison, Stu Sutcliffe, and then different drummers almost every time they played - until they found Pete Best. They were easy to hang out with. Soon I was going to every one of their gigs, even after Layla broke up with Paul. The only time I didn't go to watch their gigs was when they went to Hamburg or when I was confined to my room by my parents (which was thankfully almost never).

Then Brian Epstein became their manager, and before I knew it, they had released Love Me Do, and Ringo became their drummer, and Paul took Stu's place after he unexpectedly died of cancer. I attended a few of those earlier performances, but by the beginning of this year (1963), it became hard to get a ticket to one. It seems silly that I'd forget all that, but these last few months have changed a lot of things - getting my own apartment and working at a new job, I'd been really busy.

But now I'd get my chance to see them again.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as I heard someone shouting my name.

"Abby! Hey Abby!" I turned in amazement to see Layla across the street from me, waving like her life depended on it. I planted a grin on my incredulous face, and crossed the street to meet her. "Layla! I didn't know you lived around here!"

"Oh, well I don't, but I was hoping to catch you. We haven't seen each other in a while." She crushed me with a bear hug.

"Well, I've been busy with work and all. What about you?"

"I've been working as usual. But listen! Guess what happened the other night? Sean proposed to me!" She proceeded to give me all the details. Then she caught her breath. "Do you think you could be a bridesmaid?" she asked me excitedly.

"Of course!" I accepted, grinning properly now. "I'm so happy for you."

As we walked together, we discussed almost everything we could think to talk about. Layla seemed the same as always, still flowing and pretty with that long curly blonde hair and thick eyelashes that had boys peering from across the street. She also had the same modesty, that made her think exactly the opposite. It was something I'd always liked about her - she had always been popular and crushed on, but it didn't go to her head. Now on one of her long, slender fingers, was a beautiful golden ring.

Looking at it, for some reason I suddenly remembered the concert. "I have to go. I have a ticket to the Beatles concert at the Cavern today in forty-five minutes."

She winked at me. "Ohh! Have fun." If she had any grudges against a particular member of the said band, she didn't show it.

I laughed. "I will!" Midway through me giving her a quick hug as we said our good-byes, Ginger began tugging at the leash and led me back to my apartment just in time to get ready.

Once inside, I grabbed a stick of lipstick and rolled it onto my lips. I applied a bit of mascara with careful flicks at my lashes, put on one of my better sweaters, grabbed my ticket off of my night stand and rushed out the door again. The last thing I wanted was to be late for _this _concert.


	3. I've Just Seen A Face

Were: Okay, so here's the 3rd installment. Let us know what you think by clicking that beautiful blue review link at the bottom of the page. ;3  
>Murph : The real action is starting now. 8D Enjoy!<p>

**Chapter Three: I've Just Seen A Face**

It felt like I pushed past the whole of Liverpool in my attempt to get to my seat in the Cavern. The club was packed to the brim with Liverpudlians; mostly girls. It was a wonder a place so small could hold so many. I finally found my seat at the row very near to the front next to a girl who looked like she was on the brink of fainting. _Please._ The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, too warm and too oxygen lacking.

Then it hit me dead on - I was going to see the boys perform again! I sat forward in my seat in anticipation, hands clasped, eyes glued to the stage, waiting for them to appear.

All around me girls screamed, my ears ringing, and then they began to chant. "We want the Beatles! We want the Beatles!" Finally, they made their big entrance, causing the loudness to increase to a least two times what it was before.

They barely looked different from the last time I'd seen them in person. Maybe a little older, but that's it. George looked more like a man than a boy now, and Ringo's face seemed a bit more mature. Each one of them had their hair styled into their famous mop-tops that were their signature hair style.

The screaming increased so much more that I had to cover my ears. I watched as they got their equipment out, looking surprisingly at ease when you considered the potential danger right below the stage. Paul began setting up the microphones, George tuning his guitar, Ringo settling behind his drums ready to start, and John messing around with the amplifier.

After a few long minutes, John jumped up with a quirky smile and stepped jauntily up to the mic. "'Ello evurybody. We'll be startin' off with our latest song, She Luvs You," he announced, making the crowd go wild with his thick accent. John turned, his back facing the audience, and bobbed his head, counting in the others. Paul and George stepped up to share the mic to the right of the stage and John took the one in the center. And with that, they began to work their magic. "She luvs you, yeah, yeah, yeah, she luvs you yeah, yeah, yeah, she luvs you yeah, yeah, yeah, yeaaah." I found my self nodding my head to the beat. God I had missed these performances! Well, except for the pandemonium. There were girls pulling at their hair and screaming their favorite Beatle's names over and over - it made me feel more than a little threatened, to be quite frank. I couldn't imagine being on the receiving end of it.

The song ended way too soon. Paul turned towards the mic grinning, his brow glistening. "The next song we'll be singin' is called I Saw Her Standing There." He then nodded at John and shouted into the microphone, "One, two, three, fwaur!" I cheered them on through the song and sang along a bit too. It was my favorite Beatles song by far. It might have had something to do with the fact that Paul was the lead singer of course...

It was truly amazing, watching them perform. George was in between John and Paul in his own world, making every single note he played count. John was standing in the way he usually did - his feet a bit more than shoulder length apart, his upper torso tilted backwards while he bobbed up and down to the beat. Paul was swaying back and forth with that grin that told you he was having a great time. Ringo was behind them all, smiling goofily and beating on his drums.

Song after song was performed until they were down to their last of the afternoon.

"This'll be our las' numba fo' tunight," Paul informed the crowd, mopping his forehead briefly with his cuff. "We'd like to thank you all for comin'." With that they launched into loud twangings of their guitars that blended so well, and John began to sing - well, shout - Twist and Shout. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon babeh now!" That really got the crowd going. I stood up and shouted with them. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Everyone stood and cheered and whistled as the four of them finished the song, stepped back and bowed in a synchronized line. I watched as they followed each other off of the stage with their guitars swinging around their waists.

I groaned as I got up and turned to look for the exits. The one thing about these concerts I truly hated was the wait to get out. It took a lot of "excuse me"'s, "pardon me"'s and then finally pushing, but I finally got to the doors; and that was after waiting for the worst of the mob to disappear. As soon as I was free from the Cavern, I was pushed about by other people cramming out of the doors, trying to get to their vehicles. I smoothed out my skirt and looked around for my shinning red beauty. That was about when I was knocked right into someone, and fell, sprawling on the ground.

"'Ey, watch where yer goin'!" I heard the person shout. I got to my feet, a angry retort ready on my tongue, when I noticed who it was that I had collided with. It was Paul McCartney. "Well excuse me Sir," I said irritably, with a playful tone edging it. My heart had started thumping so fast in to my chest it was a miracle that I didn't just squeak or tremble.

He frowned, wondering if I was being sarcastic or not, when he got that look on his face.

"Wait a minute... Do I... Abby?" he asked, a grin creeping onto his adorable cheeky face. I rolled my eyes, letting my mouth turn in a grin, and nodded. "Glad to see you remember me."

"Aw, cum 'ere you!" He pulled me into a tight brotherly hug, causing my heart to skip a beat. "Wot are you doin' 'ere?"

"I came to see you boys perform. It was a great performance by the way," I complimented as he let me go. I had missed him and his hugs, the way he always seemed to be able to tell how long or crushing I preferred them to be, depending on my mood.

He stood up and pulled at the insides of his jacket together all posh-like, and abrupt character change from his enthusiastic greeting. "Thank you, m'dear," he said smartly. His grin began to disappear as people started to realize who he was and that he was there in the midst of them all with no guards. "Do you mind if we moved this conversation back to the lads? I think we're startin' to attract unwanted attention," he said, ducking his head in an attempt to be unseen. I suppressed a giggle. He'd never been the best at disguising himself.

"Okay," I agreed readily. He took my hand in his, bringing a light pink upon my cheeks, and led me quickly though the crowd to the back of the Cavern where three of the most talented people I've ever met were waiting.


	4. All Together Now

**Chapter 4: All Together Now**

**Murph : Thanks for all the feedback, it's what keeps us motivated! :) **  
><strong>Were: Honestly, I had ZERO inspiration until we got a bit of feedback. ;D Thanks for R &amp; Ring!<strong>

After many close incidents where people nearly recognized Paul and resulted in near heart attacks, they made it to the back of the Cavern where the three of them were loading their stuff into their van. It didn't look at all like a van the Beatles would travel in, which I guess was its purpose, as the windows were tainted and the paint job was really bad; the "white" coat with a hint of rust was peeling off everywhere, revealing it's silver metal underneath.

When we reached them, their instruments, mics and amps were being carefully stacked up in a pile in the back of the van. John was in the middle of helping Ringo push his drum set up the makeshift ramp - a few planks propped up - into the back of the van. Different parts were clanging and shaking wildly as they tried to fit it in. They were almost done when Ringo noticed us standing there; he jumped up and flung his arms out wildly, causing the set to wham right into an unsuspecting John with a dramatic clash of cymbals. John began to swear like none other, hopping from foot to foot when he noticed us standing there.

"John," I mused, crossing my arms over my chest. "Same as always."  
>He grinned, lifting an eyebrow and gingerly placing his feet on the ground with a wince. "Oh yeah? I've gotten more polite - we've had lessons." He gave me a wink and then pulled me into a sudden bear hug. "We've missed ya - well, maybe not as much as Macca here," he stated over my shoulder, grinning at Paul.<p>

I could picture Paul rolling his eyes and blushing. "You're the one to talk, Lennon."

"Yeah, that I am."

George appeared in his little way of sneaking in without letting anyone know and tapped me on the shoulder. "Abs! I'm taller than you are now," he teased. I took a good look at him and realized that he was right. I couldn't tell from my seat earlier but he had certainly shot up a good few inches. I pouted over our on-going argument. "You just wait..." I laughed and pulled George into a hug too.

A voice pipped up from behind me. "What about me?" I turned to find Ringo pulling his puppy dog face on me, blue eyes staring up and bottom lip stuck out in a pout. "Don't worry Rings, I didn't forget about you," I comforted.  
>After I'd finished collecting all my over-due Beatle hugs, they began to fill me in about their growing fame. Apparently, they had really started to hit it off after Hamburg and after releasing Please Please Me, concerts were getting filled just like that.<br>"This might be the last Cavern concert because of how small the place is," Paul admitted, scratching his cheek with his middle finger - he _always_ did that, I realized. It was one of his adorable quirks. I could see a little disappointment in his hazel eyes, and instinctively my mouth curved turned downwards. The Cavern was what made them. It wouldn't be easy to just leave it behind.  
>"We have had good times here -" John paused to give us a naughty grin that made me unsure if I really wanted to know what exactly he was talking about - "but we'll soon be in bigger, better places. Where are we off to lads?" John asked, as if this was a routine they all knew quite well.<br>"To the toppermost of the poppermost!" they all shouted enthusiastically, all sadness replaced with vigorous energy.

I laughed. "Okay, so enough about the band. Has George gotten himself a girl yet?"

"No, even though they've been throwing themselves at his feet every chance they get." John attempted a swoon to demonstrate, and I had trouble holding back a snort. John certainly _was_ the same. "The other day this blonde bird came up to him an' - you'd never believe it - he _refused _her! Can 'ou believe it? I would've accepted on the spot. She had the best set of-"

"It pays to not just go for the first bird you see," George interrupted what had the potential to be a very vulgar comment, glowering at John, his thick eyebrows knit together.

John shrugged it off. "Whatever Georgie. You have your motto, I have mine." He grinned, making me grimace at the thought.  
>"Oi, lads, I believe that I have the best way to snag birds," Paul announced, winking at me.<br>"Oh yes, I'm married and you have a girlfriend. Yeah, you're so much better than me." John smirked. I looked up at Paul, shocked, although it wasn't like it should have been a surprise. "You have a girlfriend?"  
>"Yeah," he confirmed with a small blush. I had mixed feelings about this, but I brushed them aside... for now.<p>

"Can I help you guys pack up?" I asked, breaking up the interesting reunion.

"Sure, there's a few mics still inside," Ringo piped up politely, pointing to the door on the side of the Cavern that was propped open. I excused myself and went in, leaving them with the job of getting Ringo's drums back up and in the van.

I stepped into the room, which appeared to be the backstage, and walked across to where the two microphone stands were sitting and scooped them up. Just as I began to leave, I heard two muffled giggles coming from somewhere off to my left. I peered around the dim stage but saw nothing. I resumed my walk to the door when suddenly I was nearly stampeded by two girls coming out of nowhere with pens and pads of paper. I heard them shriek when they found the open door. I ran after them, wondering if this was a regular thing now.  
>Outside the girls were all over the four of them begging for autographs. I caught Paul's eye and raised my eyebrow. His response was a sheepish grin. He signed for both of them and motioned for me to get into the van with them. I gladly followed him in as he shut the door behind me, earning looks of hatred from the two girls.<br>I sat down by Ringo who had saved me a spot next to him. I gave him a quick smile which was returned sweetly. "What was that all about?" I asked, pushing my hair out of my face as I made myself comfortable.  
>"That was our fan base," Paul answered.<br>"They love us," John stated as he pulled out a ciggie and lit it. "Usually there's a lot more than two waitin' for us."  
>"We're lucky today," Ringo added.<br>"Fun," I noted. "They nearly ran me over trying to get to the door." I laughed.  
>"They are quite possessive when it comes to us," Paul laughed uneasily, taking a ciggie from John.<br>"So... where are we going now?" I asked casually, sitting back against the rugged seat.  
>"Over to the pub. We forgot to ask ya if you minded," John grinned deviously.<br>I rolled my eyes, fanning smoke away from my face. "You know I have a job to be at in the morning." I sighed when they all gave me pleading faces that I just couldn't say no to. "I guess I can stay for a little while..."  
>"That's the Abby we know!" Ringo announced, smiling proudly.<br>"Rings, it really surprises me how happy you are during the day but what a drag you are in the morning," George remarked - a classic George moment.  
>"What can I say?" Ringo agreed, leaning backward into the leather seat and puffing on his ciggie. "I'm one happy bloke when I don't 'ave three bloody wankas shoutin' at me to get up when it's only 7am."<br>All the way there we talked about their latest songs and albums and what they planned to record in the near future, a few crude remarks and little jabs every once in a while. I even got to hear the beginning of a song they called "It Won't Be Long" complete with guitar playing, singing and even a bit of drums from the backseat. Every once in a while a random topic would pop up that would remind me how much I had missed being with the Beatles. I found myself desperately hoping that I could somehow hang on to them this time.


	5. I'm Happy Just to Dance With You

**We're really sorry about being so late with this one. :S Hopefully now that exams are over we can be publishing more.**

**Chapter Five: I'm Happy Just to Dance With You**

The club we ended up at was a pretty good looking place called "Top-Ten". Apparently the Beatles were known customers there, so they were expecting a crowd. As we exited the van, I thanked Mal for the ride. I felt a rush of relief that I had chosen to wear one of my better dresses - a dark emerald green thing that reached almost to my knees with ruffles going through it giving it a sophisticated yet bouncy and playful feel. Perfect for dancing.  
>Once we got in, John was whisked away at once, hidden by a crowd of five or more girls all grabbing his arms and leading him away. Ringo made his way to the dance floor, and George hung around by the bar, smoking and looking deep in thought.<br>Paul on the other hand, graciously remembered me and stayed with me.  
>"What do you think luv?" he asked as we took a seat on the right side of the bar.<br>"Not bad," I mused, nodding my head to the music that was playing.  
>"C'mon. Not bad? This is one of the best in Liverpool." He gave me a lopsided grin and ordered a brandy. "One for me too please," I added. Paul cocked an eyebrow. "What?" I asked defensively.<br>"Oh nothing, it's just that our Abs is growing up so fast." He pretended to wipe away a fake tear from his eye, and sniffed.

I shoved his arm lightly. "Oh stop it. I'm just a year younger than you, and you started drinking when?"

He raised his hands in defeat. "Okay okay, you win." He nodded a thanks to the bartender as he slid our drinks across the counter to us. I started to reach for my purse when Paul stopped me and tossed a wad of cash at him. "It's on me tonight."

"Oh come on Paul-"

He shook his head, which actually made me a bit relieved. I didn't have all that much cash to be spending freely. "We brought you 'ere, we pay." He shifted in his seat and sipped at his drink. "So tell me; what do you do for your job exactly?"

I paused to think before responding. "Well... I edit all the articles for the local paper, and deal with letters to the newspaper. You know, like, letters to the editor."

He nodded. "I could never do that. It would be too much sitting still. Plus, I'm not the best at grammar and such."

"It's not that hard actually. The people who write them in the first place are really good at it so usually there's not much I have to correct."

We went on talking about things that would be boring to talk about with anyone but Paul. He was the best person to talk to; he listened, wanted to know more, and seemed to really care about what I was saying. I got so caught up in all the talk that before I knew it my brandy was totally gone and the song in the background had changed to a more familiar song.

"Nice music selection," I mused, watching Paul's reaction.

He laughed. "I think they knew we were coming." He tipped his ear to hear himself sing 'I Saw Her Standing There'.

"This is my favorite I think, so far," I commented.

"It is, is it?" He eyed me and then asked, "So do you still dance as well as you did two years ago?"

"Better." I grinned and took his hand as he led me to the floor.

Ever since I got involved with the Beatles, I'd been dancing - but no one had been as fun to dance with as Paul. It was so much fun, particularly because every time I forgot myself and started to lose my smile, his crazy flop of hair and wriggling eyebrows planted it straight back on. It seemed as thought we'd just started when the song ended.

"So," I said, breathing heavily. "How-"

A raven-haired girl appeared suddenly from behind Paul and took his arm. "Paulie! Mind if I have a dance?" she purred. I frowned, about to say something when Paul gave me a look.

"Sorry Abby, I'll catch up with you later." He gave me an apologizing smile and then was swept away.  
>I glowered after them, feeling utterly rejected. I'd just been ditched by Paul. I stalked over to the bar again in a huff. Who did that girl think she was? Why did Paul just take off with her? Was she more important than... me? I decided to drown my thoughts in another drink.<br>George pulled up a stool next to me. "Having fun?"  
>I sighed. "Not really. You?"<br>"Yeah, same 'ere." We laughed.  
>"What, no girls for you?" I teased.<p>

He shook his head seriously. "Nope. They know it too. They keep their distance most of the time."

I glanced over at him, taking in his expression properly for the first time. George was different to the others, in a multitude of ways. Not only did he not lap up the fame that was lapping at his feet, but he sometimes even seemed to resent it.

"Maybe it would be better if you went in disguise and tried to meet someone who wasn't some crazed fan." I told him, wanting to put his smile back on his boyish face.

"Wearin' a wig, sunglasses and what else?" He wriggled his eyebrows at me.

"Who knows, there might be someone out there looking for just that." I grinned.

"If there is, I haven't met her yet. But how about you? Anyone special in your life?"

I gave him a look that sent him laughing. "What?"

"Yur face..." he grinned.

"Well, if my expressions didn't answer you, then no, I do not have a boyfriend." I took another big sip of my drink.

"That's good, cos there's a lad out there who's waitin' for ya." He winked, and a shiver went up my spine. Something told me that there was a huge amount of wisdom in those words.

I shook it off. "How would you know, Georgie?"

"I happen to be a very gifted reader of feelings," he answered.

That sent me into a fit of giggles. "Yeah _right. _You're funny, George."

He gave me an uncomfortable look. "Um, Abby?"

"What?" I questioned, polishing off my drink. My head was reeling, but my common sense was fuzzy.

"I'll call Mal," he responded, getting up.

"No, don't leave me too..." but he was gone. I stood up clumsily (the heels weren't helping), and made my way to the door. I pushed it over and breathed in the cool air. Suddenly I slumped over onto one of the brick walls, and before I knew it, I was asleep.


	6. We Forgot to Remember (to Forget)

Hey guys, remember me?...

I am SO SO SO SOSOSO sorry with Paul on top. Murph and I started losing inspiration for a little while, school happened, busy schedules emerged and one thing led to another and, well... We win as the biggest procrastinators!... Just kidding, it's REALLY depressing. :( We're gonna try to get back on top of this and _hopefully_ get the next chapter out soonish, and we promise it will be extra good! We love all of you who have taken the time to read our story thus far, and we love you even more if you've written a review. Sometimes those things are like the small light at the end of the dark writer's block tunnel; you guys are awesome! :D

~ Were


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